Class
by Kalen
Summary: AU; Cinq never fell. Milliardo always considered Noin an equal - until a political uprising changed what was acceptable. (6x9) Epilogue up. I'm done.
1. Constitutional

Class Be aware this is just the first part...hopefully it won't be so cute next time. (Unless you want it that way...but personally I loathe "cute.")

**A.C. 182, early April**

"Sir Khushrenada, I bid you well." Queen Katerina nodded briefly, ruffling his ten-year-old son, Treize's, hair lightly.

Katerina's own son, Milliardo, stood solemnly at her left side, waiting until the two guests had left before speaking.

"I overheard you speaking to Khushrenada," he said quietly, sounding far too sage for his six years of age. "Is it true?"

"Eavesdropping is very unprincely behavior, my child," she admonished, but didn't mean it. "Don't concern yourself with rumors of attacks. I want you to meet someone."

Milliardo inwardly groaned, but kept silent, obediently following her into a conference room. He warily eyeballed a young girl his age, wearing a yellow dress and sitting on the windowsill. What was most curious about her was her hairstyle - cropped short like a boy's, with unruly purplish bangs covering half her face.

One of Cinq's ambassadors, Giuseppe Noin, was seated at the table, his wife next to him. The ambassador rose and bowed to the queen, turning to gesture at the young girl.

"My Queen, may I humbly present my daughter Lucrezia."

"How very nice to meet you, Lucrezia," Katerina intoned politely. Milliardo blinked when the girl bowed rather than curtsied.

"Excuse me," Milliardo said, still puzzled. "I'm afraid I promised John I'd practice fencing, pardon me in my departure."

"Very well." Katerina nodded, only further confusing him. "Get going, you wouldn't want to upset him."

+++

"Your form could use some work," Lucrezia remarked.

Milliardo whirled from practicing by himself, giving her a look. "I don't suppose you could do any better."

Then it was her turn to glare. "Don't think I can't fight because I'm a girl."

"Prove it then."

"Fine."

Lucrezia picked up a foil, silently cursing herself for going against her mother barely five minutes after she expressly ordered her not to get into a fight.

Oh well.

"Hey, hey!" a voice called, interrupting the impending match. "Prince, didn't I tell you not to get angry?"

"Yes, John," he grumped.

"And you, girl," John scolded. "Never fight without the correct equipment. You think your parents will be happy if you ruin that dress of yours?"

"No, sir," she responded in the same tone. _Damn…why do adults always have to get involved?_

"What's your name?"

"Lucrezia."

"You still want to fight?"

"Yes, sir."

"Milliardo?"

"Yes."

"Then get moving."

She nodded, going into the changing room "John" pointed out, changing quickly and feeling better about the situation. Lucrezia assumed he was the prince's fencing instructor, not that she particularly cared.

"Ready, Lucrezia?" John asked. She nodded, holding the foil tightly. "Relax, the both of you. Now, five-point sparring, head is not a target, God knows your parents would use my head as a target. Objections?"

"No," they responded in unison, still furious at each other - as evidenced by their glaring looks.

"Start."

35 minutes later, Queen Katerina, King Benjamin, Ambassador Noin and his wife walked into the practice area, shocked to see their respective children sparring viciously under the watchful eye of Milliardo's instructor.

"Just what is the meaning of this?" Benjamin demanded. Milliardo flinched at his voice and Lucrezia scored a point.

"No distraction rules," she taunted in a low voice, out of the adults' hearing range. Milliardo glared.

John looked up, slightly bored. "They got into an argument…this was supposed to be a five point match. They've also been at it for about forty minutes now."

"Lucrezia, stop that immediately!" her mother yelled, slightly panicked. "I order you to stop fighting!"

"Mom, you're going to make me lose!" Lucrezia responded in a breath, narrowly avoiding another hit against her.

"Milliardo, stop that! You don't fight guests!" Benjamin roared, showing a rare fit of anger.

"With all due respect, Your Majesties, Ambassador and Mrs. Noin, let them finish. It's an honorable match, and it'll get it out of their systems."

The parents, albeit highly reluctantly, agreed. And watched in amazement as the six-year-olds fought for another fifteen minutes, staying at an even four-point stalemate.

Just when Queen Katerina was about to nod off from the hypnotic, continuous clanging, she saw something amazing.

They simultaneously scored points on each other's arms.

"Well," a tired John called out, "this match is over."

"I won."

"No, I won."

"No, _I_…"

"Milliardo?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"You do know Lucrezia will be living in the palace with her parents from now on?"

The two children looked at their parents in shock. "WHAT?"

**A.C. 191, June 24**

"Milliardo, hurry up already!" Noin yelled through the door, irritated. "I thought girls were the ones who were supposed to take longer!"

He opened the door, jacket off and a tangled piece of white scarf in his hand. "I can't tie the thing," he said to the captain of his guard.

"Ugh," she grumbled, untangling it deftly. "You're fifteen and can't tie your own damn scarf…there." Noin reached around his neck in a familiar manner and was somewhat tempted to choke him for the annoyance he caused. Bowing to duty, she tied it instead, giving him a smug look.

"Thank you," Milliardo grumped, slipping into his jacket. She was wearing the blue and red uniform of the Imperial Guard, he the white and black of the Royal Family, but they might as well have been wearing jeans and t-shirts.

They'd met at six years old, and had been raised as equals - that mentality never left them.

It was only Queen Katerina and the children now; she handled most foreign relations - the older prince rarely left Cinq's borders. Noin, as she was called now, never found reason to either. A few times she had returned to Italy, but despite being born there, it was Cinq that remained home to her.

"What meeting am I missing now?" Milliardo asked, buttoning the jacket.

"Trade. There's a company interested in buying from the coastal farmers," Noin replied, handing him an outline of their proposal.

"Shouldn't they be speaking to the farmers, then?"

"That's what you're supposed to tell them." She shrugged in response to his look. "Your mother's moronic aide again. He's the one that agreed to it."

"Not him again." Milliardo shook his head in an irritated manner. "I don't know why Mother keeps him around - she could just ask Pagan to do the scheduling."

Noin didn't answer as she led him into a boardroom with four suited businesspeople in it.

"Prince Milliardo, have you looked over the proposal?" One of them asked eagerly as Milliardo and Noin took their seats.

Noin gave him a hand signal to answer affirmatively. "Yes, I have - and I believe I'm the wrong person to ask."

"Aren't you the one in charge of domestic relations?"

"When the Queen is predisposed, yes, but that isn't government land. You have to speak to those that do own it."

"That would be far too difficult and time-consuming for a company of our size, we-"

"With all due respect, that is of little concern to us."

"We _thought_," a third woman gritted out, "seeing as this is a monarchy-"

"A _constitutional_ monarchy*, ladies and gentlemen," Noin interrupted, seeing the mistake of Milliardo not having looked at the exact details of their proposal. "That is why."

"Who are you, his wife?"

Noin was startled, but continued without missing a beat, now rather angry. "No, I'm the captain of his guard and at the moment I have half a mind to throw you out as a security risk. If you truly wish to pursue this line of business, talk to the _farmers_ yourself!" She took a breath to calm down, running a hand through her short purple hair. "Anything to add, Milliardo?"

"No, I believe you've quite covered it." Milliardo stifled the urge to laugh at the stricken expressions of the foursome's faces. _She always did get her way…_

+++  
* ::bangs head on desk:: These Peacecrafts are so damn hard to figure out... If I wanted to be all that P.C., they're most likely a despotic monarchy, but then that would be missing Noin's point. ::glares at SS book:: So live with it. 


	2. Peacemaker

Peacemaker (Class part 2) "Captain."

Noin turned, abandoning the search for her cufflinks. She bowed politely. "Princess Relena. What brings you here, if I may ask?"

Relena's eyes focused on the wall behind her. "My brother sent me to ask that you join him. We have a visitor."

"Who?" The young princess turned to look at her, dead ice in her eyes.

"Treize Khushrenada of the Federation.*" Noin felt pity for the intentionally blank look in Relena's face. Relena, unlike Milliardo, never had friends. As a child, the elder had Noin as a playmate, and at present as a friend and confidante - Relena hadn't either. When they were younger, Relena would follow them about, a lonely little girl. She had stopped that a year or two prior.

"Thank you." Noin nodded and walked out, concerned. The outside world, at least the militaristic parts of it, tended to leave them alone, had for a good nine years now. She irritably tugged at her sleeve; annoyed that the cuff was loose and gave the impression unkemptness on her part. Milliardo's prominent platinum hair could be seen from the second-floor balcony she was on; Noin hurried down to meet him.

"Noin." He nodded to her, gesturing to the taller Treize in front of him. "This is Treize Khushrenada."

She felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness towards Milliardo when she caught sight of Treize. Certainly, the Khushrenada appeared charismatic and honest enough, but there was something off…

"Treize, this is Lucrezia Noin," Milliardo completed the introductions. She must have missed the more lengthy formalities in her surprise. Worry notwithstanding, Noin stepped forward and shook his hand firmly.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss…Lucrezia, is it?" he queried. She frowned and shook her head, crossing her arms.

"Captain Noin, if you would," she responded, slightly ill at ease. Noin rarely used her title, too reminiscent of the militaries the Cinq Alliance stood against, but she felt it necessary in this situation. Just what was it that was setting her on edge? She had never felt this apprehension before.

"You have my most sincere apologies, Captain," Treize said with a smile. He turned to Milliardo. "Prince, it is nice to see you again. We were but children the last time we stood in this hall." Noin hid her confusion, taking a step backwards but remaining in front of Milliardo. She knew it was most likely paranoia, but she felt she had to protect him from Treize.

_To protect him is my duty,_ she thought. _It always has been._

"Yes, it is nice to meet again," Milliardo agreed politely. Noin noticed, somewhat to her chagrin, that while not entirely at ease, he wasn't uncomfortable either. She turned her head as something brown passed in and out of her field of vision, on the second floor balcony she had just left. Her first thought was that it was Relena, but Relena had been wearing a white dress just a few minutes prior.

Treize glanced at Noin sidelong when she dropped her voice and started speaking in another language. He pretended not to hear while he listened, and recognized it in a few moments as an Italian dialect. He struggled to place it by words, but failed. Then a telltale voice-pitch pattern told him. _A commoner's dialect,_ he mused. _The Prince's guard is an Italian peasant. Odd, she doesn't carry herself like one at all - more like royalty, and she's being downright rude…_

"Treize, may I suggest we go outside?" Milliardo asked, gesturing idly towards the hall's doors. He nodded, mildly confused. _Did they catch sight of one of my men…? Fair enough, they were meant to be scouts…_

The garden was gorgeous, with several Mediterranean-indigenous flowers scattered about. They were obviously cultivated, yet maintained the appearance of growing on their own. Normally, the beauty of the botanical splendor would have brought him to examine it closer, perhaps comment on it…but Treize had more important matters to discuss.

Noin shook her head at Milliardo's unspoken question of the reason to her linguistically cryptic warning. If the brown figure had been one of Treize's hired hands, then it would be better not to alert him. "I apologize for my rudeness," she said quietly. "I temporarily forgot you did not know the language." She was lying through her teeth, but failed to care as she usually did.

Treize realized it was a lie as well, but politely passed it over. "I assume you wonder why I have come on this…impromptu visit."

Milliardo nodded silently while Noin focused on the gravel path beneath them. Though she rarely observed this rule, she understood it wasn't her place to speak…and with this man, this Khushrenada, she dared not break decorum yet. The final unease explained itself to her - he demanded of royalty, and manipulated as well. Already, it appeared, his demeanor had affected her. It was the undercurrent of possible manipulation that made her wary.

"The reason would be that…the political setup of the Earth Sphere is beginning to destabilize. Heero Yuy's been gone for ten years** now, and the foundations he left behind are crumbling. Anasta Kersey, one of the more prominent politicians, has also fallen ill. Without her, the colony representative, Jonathan Yuy, and another intermediary, Andre Fischer, are having problems."

"What exactly does that have to do with us?" Noin interrupted, waiting to gauge his reaction. It wasn't in her nature to remain silent for too long in those circumstances. "The Cinq Alliance is aware of this. We've been trying to help."

"Cinq can't afford to cause too much noise at the moment." Treize was looking directly at her, and the ice-blue chill of his eyes would have frightened her if she had been of lesser temperament. But Noin wasn't, and she met his look as an equal. _Curious thing, her… doesn't act like Milliardo's pet._

"Because of the aborted Federation attacks," Milliardo murmured, head snapping around to give an anxious glance to Noin. She shook her head. "That was something your family set up, Treize…"

"And we never imagined it would come to this." Treize frowned. "The point was for Cinq to outlive the Federation. It _will_ die soon."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because of Objective Zenith," he replied in utmost conviction. "OZ, disguised as the elite of the Federation. My uncle, General Catalonia, is in charge of it now, but he'll have to step down soon."

"And you'll take over," Noin finished for him. "Again, I ask, what does this have to do with us?" She ceased to care about her bluntness. This was beyond intimidation. A question that had nothing to do with either hung in the air. _And how are we certain OZ isn't the Federation under different leaders?_

"The Earth Sphere needs new intermediaries." Treize glanced at Milliardo. "If I may be so frank, your mother is ill, as you know. She has never been able to do anything because of this setup. Now the setup will be void, and she will still be able to do nothing. Even now, you'll be expected to take over the Cinq Alliance's duties as peacemaker, as your name so colorfully describes."

Noin frowned. As of yet, this was a complex web they had avoided. She had long suspected the Khushrenada family, so closely tied to the Peacecrafts, had something to do with it, and now the suspicion was confirmed.

Milliardo's voice interrupted her dark thoughts. "Even so, this will take a few years at least. What is it you wish us to do now?"

"I want you to come with me, and become more familiar with this. There is a secluded old estate belonging to my family in Austria. It would be easier there to let you become accustomed to what you will have to do. And I fear to say that it will be sooner than you think, that this situation will climax."

Milliardo turned to Noin, watched her nod. Treize waited for an explanation. "_We_ will," she informed him, gently but firmly. "I fear to say we work better as a team." He noted with mild surprise and perhaps irritation her mocking of his speech. _No…not his pet as all, although she would appear to be in every other manner…_

Only then did he question their status relative to each other.

*For the sake of simplicity, the Alliance of the dub is using the fansub translation of "Federation." The entire point of this is to differentiate from the Cinq Alliance.  
**This is, naturally, deviating from the actual story. In the manga, Heero Yuy died in A.C. 175. That assassination has been altered to a permanent disappearance seven years later in A.C. 182. 


	3. 

Class (3) Huge thanks to Killraven and Mythica for helping me out with this and being immensely patient with my stupidity. Part four should be out by Saturday/Sunday the 12/13th. And for those who asked, Relena does indeed have an intrinsic role to the story. Be patient.

Noin forced herself to stay perfectly still as she picked up a duffel bag and suitcase, trying hard not to let the freezing cold affect her. The plane from Cinq to southern Austria*, the province of Carinthia to be precise, had been three hours late, and she was reaching a new level of exhaustion.

"Aren't you or Prince Milliardo cold?" Treize asked.

"Yes, we both are," she bit off, straightening with a glance in his direction. "But to show it would be impolite." He nodded. Milliardo came up next to her, and she shook her head at the silent question, _what's bothering you?_ Noin hated it when he acted so concerned; she was supposed to be the one taking care of _him,_ after all.

She had been mildly surprised that Treize had no security detail. Truly enough, Milliardo tended to travel only with her on the rare occasion he did leave Cinq, and she was all that was necessary inside the country's borders. Treize, however …

The Cinq pair reluctantly relinquished their luggage to some silent, seemingly local servants that came out of the house they were approaching. Treize led them into the large stone edifice, pausing inside a small hallway to the left of the main doors. Noin shifted uncomfortably in the heavy gray coat she was wearing.

"This place looks like an ancient castle," Milliardo murmured to her. Treize stopped and turned.

"It is one. More than a millennia and a half old in age, and has been in the Khushrenada family for about as long**," he informed them. She met his eyes unflinchingly as he spoke, neither impressed nor amused. Treize continued evenly. "I'm afraid I must be in the city for business for today. I assume you'll both be fine here; it should give you a chance to relax from the plane ride."

Noin mentally wondered what it could mean, and listened with half an ear to Milliardo's acquiescent answer.

_A few days in a foreign, possibly hostile country where we don't know the language …_ She mentally grimaced at the thought. _This idea appears worse by the hour …_

+++

Noin halted abruptly with a surprised look as she nearly collided into Treize. He didn't respond to her reluctant deferential nod. She remembered with some annoyance Milliardo was in another part of the house.

"Captain," he started, speaking with the precision of one trained to do so. "I hope you are aware that I will be unable to protect the Prince from any danger that may follow." Treize held out a small pistol to her, and she blinked. "Additional protection from you may be necessary."

She hesitated. The security issues had occurred to her, but she had been raised in a pacifist nation. _Which is more important … Cinq's ideals, or Milliardo?_

Noin took the handgun. _It's only temporary … we'll be leaving here in a few days; it doesn't matter …_

"You do know how to use it?" His tone was nearly condescending.

"Yes, I do," she replied, somewhat acidly. "Thank you."

+++

"Noin," Milliardo called out as she entered the small study. "Look at this."

"What is it?" she queried, bracing her hands against the desk he sat at, skimming the handwritten books and ancient carbon copy papers over his shoulder. She turned her head to look at him, startled. "These are-"

"Yes." Milliardo nodded grimly. "The old black contracts of the Khushrenada family. Sir Khushrenada the senior, to be exact. Treize tells me the only people who know of this will be permanently silenced with the Federation's fall."

"I don't like this," Noin said bluntly. "It's dangerous; _he_ is dangerous. If something were to happen, Milliardo …"

"This is important to the Earth Sphere's peace, and Cinq's place in bringing it about. We've been biding our time for far too long."

She exhaled, straightening. Her thoughts went unwittingly back to the gun Treize had given her, now locked in the room she was using. The instrument of death, of war - the exact opposite of the total pacifism ideals of Cinq - frightened her even as she was reluctantly beginning to recognize its necessity. It was a guilty requirement she didn't dare tell him about.

"I worry," Noin said, frowning. "Just be careful."

+++

Treize glanced up from the papers spread on the cast-iron table. A gust of wind pushed snow about the small greenhouse, providing stark contrast to the humid, chlorophyll-scented warmth inside. Craggy rock emerged from the ground; the estate was set quite firmly into the side of a mountain.

He returned his attention to his two companions. The prince, Milliardo, was simple enough to understand. The eldest living Peacecraft child, he knew his duty and would probably kill himself to fulfill it.

That pet guard of his, however …

Her duty was to protect the prince. She appeared to fulfill that - but also some things that were entirely inappropriate for someone of her position. Captain Noin didn't appear to be his guard - rather, she seemed to be Milliardo's companion. As of yet, Treize still wasn't certain "companion" was in a platonic sense.

The nineteen-year-old OZ major turned as he heard the captain's voice, in anxious, slightly high-pitched Italian - the same peasant dialect she had been speaking before. He didn't understand a word of what she was saying, but managed to note it was somehow connected to the papers she was gesturing to. Milliardo's voice returned in the same language, in an attempted soothing tone. _Yet more odd behavior,_ Treize thought wryly. _They continue to be horribly rude - I'll have to do something about that._

Glass shattered, sprinkling cold clear shards over the area as gunshots rang out. Argument forgotten, Noin pushed Milliardo onto the floor quickly, kneeling next to him and drawing the gun she had been supplied with two days prior. Treize whirled to locate the shots' source, and was irritated to see the two black figures disappearing. He was startled to see the Peacecraft guard fire at the snipers, missing intentionally but frightening them off. No one moved to pursue.

Noin quickly unloaded the gun. _She truly does know how to use it, he thought,_ perturbed by the knowledge.

"Noin, you …" Milliardo stared at her, shock in his face. She turned away, looking desperate and guilty, having been caught in this ultimate transgression.

"I told you I was worried."

+++

She opened the door and stepped out, waiting for Milliardo. He deliberately ignored her, closing the taxi door and walking forward. Noin had already paid the driver.

"Milliardo, I _am_ sorry for upsetting you," she said quietly.

"But you don't regret your decision?" He no longer sounded dismayed - rather, his voice held anger and disappointment. Noin hesitated.

"No, I don't." she sighed. They began to walk through the open-air market in front of the palace.

"You went against everything just by accepting his offer." Milliardo frowned. "How could you?" He spoke in a whisper to keep others from overhearing.

Much as she hated arguing with him, she was glad for it. The entire plane ride back to Cinq, he'd barely said two words to her. Now, home, she was even uneasier. She couldn't help but get the paranoid feeling that there were people watching her. Cursory glances confirmed they were coming from townspeople - rather than treating them as part of the scenery, Noin saw several distinct glares. It was disconcerting in the friendly country.

She opened her mouth to answer, but shut it and turned at a sharp rapping. It originated from the old flower-vendor's booth, and Noin smiled forcibly.

"Good day, Madam. I'm sorry I didn't notice you earlier," Milliardo greeted abruptly. She echoed the salutation, moving out of the way as she waited for the ritual to continue. Every time the prince passed this booth, the old woman would give him a white rose. They would accumulate in a vase outside Milliardo's room, as decoration.

"For purity," the old vendor said as always. But her voice held scorn rather than kindness, and what she handed him was a dried scarlet flower.

"Thank you, it's very pretty." He executed a slight bow, hiding surprise at the broken custom. Noin, too, hid her unsettlement. "Farewell."

"Let's go," she whispered, reaching out for his wrist. Ignoring philosophy be damned, she was more nervous here than she had been in Austria. "Let's go," Noin repeated, slightly more urgently. "We'll talk later."

+++

* Despite my theory that Cinq's royalty originated in Sweden (the Swedes tend to be blonde and blue-eyed; the country is entirely pacifistic. Sound familiar?), I'm assuming that because the country's coastal and seems to be warm that it's in the Mediterranean.

** Treize is listed simply as Aryan. Nazi definition notwithstanding, "Aryan" refers to the Nordic/Germanic race of people, which includes the nation of Austria. 


	4. 

Class (4) Thanks for her patience to Blivy (and helpful Chinese lessons ^_~), and for the help from Killraven and Mythica. They're all great. And I suppose I should thank those noisy girls that kept me up late enough to finish this on time . . . Moving on.

+ + +

Queen Katerina Peacecraft was a hair's breadth away from throwing a fit.

"Mother, people have spoken of this for a good while," her daughter said softly, leaning against the marble wall. "It should come as no surprise."

Relena's words were undermined by the sempiternal lisp no speech trainer could eliminate. The 52-year-old Katerina gave her a fretful look. "I never regretted bringing her into our home when her parents … had problems. She was your brother's friend; kept him down to earth. But _this_-"

"Isn't cute anymore?" she offered. Her eyes lit up in amusement. "To him it is."

"Relena!" Katerina stopped to catch her breath. _The doctor told me I shouldn't have problems breathing …_ "This is no laughing matter. It could destroy new diplomatic relations, and she-"

"Isn't good enough for him," Relena mused. _The little child who knew too much, am I?_ "What a lovely little scandal my brother has set up. Lovers with the captain." She laughed. The sound disconcerted Katerina.

"Enough of that. Go finish your schoolwork."

"But, Mother," she protested. "I wanted to see Milliardo."

Katerina hesitated. "I don't suppose it would hurt. Very well, you can go out and meet him when they arrive."

Relena smiled happily. "Thank you."

+ + +

"Banana," Relena called to the aide. She watched him flinch in sheer sadistic mirth at the nickname.

"Yes, Princess Relena?" he answered without turning.

"Why did my mother know about the rumors?" she asked, stepping around to face him.

"Rumors … travel, my princess," he responded nervously. "No one can control them."

"Control what?" a new voice asked.

"Milliardo!" Relena said, pleased. She ignored Noin. "You're back."

"Yes, it's nice to be back," Milliardo agreed. The captain's eyes were downcast, and Relena was upset when she realized Noin would take her brother somewhere else soon.

"Milliardo," she said quietly, as expected, "I have to speak to you." _Maybe I can make my brother leave her for a while._

"But, brother," Relena complained, "I wanted to read those books you gave me together. Can you please come with me?" She watched him pause, and silently hoped he would choose her over Noin. _Those rumors weren't too farfetched …_

"Relena …" he started, bending down so he was at her eye level. "I'm sorry, but this is more important."

"It's always more important," she nearly whined.

"Well," Milliardo hesitated, "this really is more important. But I promise I'll come see you later, okay?"

_I'm glad I did it, then._

"Okay," Relena acquiesced reluctantly. Noin nodded briefly to him, and Relena focused on the floor. _She's probably happy he chose her over me,_ the princess thought sullenly. _They're damned Siamese twins._

+ + +

Noin felt guilty as she walked away with Milliardo in step with her. She didn't like having to disappoint Relena either, but as her companion had said, this really was more important.

"Noin …" Milliardo looked nearly forlorn as he spoke; halted and turned to look at her. They were a few steps away from an exit into the garden. "Do you want to leave?"

"What?" she asked, startled.

"Do you want to leave here, Cinq, and … me?"

Noin was shocked into a confused silence.

"You do, don't you?"

"No, no-" She blinked and stared. "No, I don't. Cinq is home. I could never leave here."

He sighed in relief. "I'm glad. But … with all this, it occurred to me that you could."

"I never could." She frowned, perturbed as they resumed walking. The abrupt sunlight temporarily blinded her; to keep her balance she held onto Milliardo's arm. Her eyesight returned and the floating spots left, but she didn't let go. "I still don't regret my decision to take that gun. I don't think I could ever regret that either."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I'm supposed to protect you. I thought … I thought it would help. That's what Treize told me. And he was right."

"Are you saying pacifism is wrong?" He was incredulous, to the point he appeared to think she was ridiculous.

"I - I don't know," Noin responded honestly. "I don't know." Milliardo shook his head. He was tired of arguing.

"Prince Milliardo! Captain Noin!" a hoarse voice called.

"It's the flower vendor," she observed, confused. The palace gardens were open to the populace; it was more of a city park than anything. Everyone respected it and did their part to keep it in its pristine state.

The woman stopped, panting, in front of them. Noin reflexively reached out to help her, only to be waved away.

"Madam, may I ask what your business is?" Milliardo queried helplessly.

"Oh, it's just me being a silly fool." The crone smiled, shaking her head. "You still have that flower? Here, give it." He obeyed, even more baffled. "There!" She threw it away, revealing a white rose, the same as all the others. "I truly hope you can both forgive me, it was none of my business to listen to those foolish rumors." The flower vendor bowed respectfully.

"What rumors?" Noin was relieved, but still baffled. "I assumed everyone was angry because we left for Austria …"

"Oh, poor girl." She sighed, clicking her tongue. "And those fool, fool people … you haven't heard what started?"

"We haven't heard much of anything," Milliardo attempted to explain, "as … there have been more important things to handle."

"Yes, of course." She nodded vehemently. "I suppose I should explain - there have been rumors about you two - _about_ you two, if you understand. But it really isn't my business."

"This isn't our day," Noin whispered to him, slightly upset at the new information. "Thank you, Madam. Your apology means much to us."

"Oh, the least I could do, dearie." The flower-vendor smiled and bowed again, starting to leave. "Good day, Prince; Captain. I'll wait for when next you pass!"

+ + +

"You're saying it's never occurred to you?" Milliardo asked.

"No!" Noin exclaimed. They were back inside, on the second-floor wraparound. "They're ridiculous rumors; if we even remotely confirm them, it could ruin everything!"

"Since when have you cared about Cinq's diplomatic relations?" he demanded quietly. She stared at him as if slapped, as if by he who had never once raised a hand or voice at her. The comment stung.

"I've always cared."

Milliardo was startled to see her that hurt at the unthinking comment. "Noin, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to-"

"No. But you did." She crossed her arms and looked away. "Is that what you think of me? Because of what I did, even after all this time?"

"I-" he hesitated. "Because of that …"

"Because of that," she sighed. "I still don't regret it. But I hate that it matters, hate that this has to be mixed up with those damned rumors."

"They have to matter. They're Cinq's ideals. I don't like that our personal lives have to matter either, but-"

"I know about ideals; I'm just starting … not to see their practicality. As well, our lives have to matter because they're _not_ personal, not anymore."

"What if part of the rumors were true?"

Noin glanced up, confused. "We know they aren't anywhere near true. We aren't sleeping together."

"No, we're not." Milliardo looked at her almost patiently.

"You're serious." Her expression bordered on amusement as she expectantly watched her best friend. His sentence didn't need to be completed; Noin understood its meaning without it. The mirth evaporated from her face as quickly as it came. "My God, you're serious."

He looked sad - to her, an expression worse than when he had been angry and arguing.

"I would think," he murmured, "that you would know me well enough by now."

+ + +

Have I sufficiently convinced you all that I'm a nutcase? Well, [tell][1] me. 

   [1]: mailto:lucrezia_noin9@gundamwing.net



	5. Resignation

Class 5: Resignation Thanks to the usual host: Killraven, Mythica/Lady, and all the reviewers here and on the ML. ^_^

+ + +

Milliardo shook his head, in a futile deprecating mannerism directed at himself. _I've probably alienated her completely … gods, that was a moronic move._

The argument was still stinging in his mind, as his hand was stinging from exercising his anger on the granite bench he was now sitting on. Admitting his feelings had been the stupidest thing he'd done in a good while. The last had been … deciding the river was safe to swim in, even when Noin told him otherwise. She's the one to listen to, he thought ruefully, remembering the scrapes he'd gotten. Now-

"Milliardo!" a high-pitched voice called. "Milliardo, where are you?"

"I'm here, Relena," he called back, standing from the bench to spot her by the camellias.

"Brother," she chirped happily. "Are you busy now?"

_Busy sulking,_ was his mental response, but his spoken was, "No, I'm fine. Would you like to play a game?"

Relena looked slightly annoyed to see his depressed face, but her young mind rationalized it. _Of course he'd be upset if Noin rejected him. But he'll get over it; she's just a girl … there'll be plenty of 'em._

"I wanted to read those books."

"Very well. Where are they?"

The irritation disappeared from her face as she smiled. "In my room," she grabbed his hand, "let's go."

+ + +

Noin concentrated hard on the target, squeezing the trigger only when she knew she would hit the mark. Missing would only cause more frustration.

The effort required of the practice kept her mind off other things she didn't want to think about, the perfect activity. It kept her alone in a secluded area of the gardens that the public rarely visited and was frequented only by the animals in the national park the palace branched off of.

A quiet crushing sound, of the rich emerald grass she was standing on, alerted her, and by instinct she whirled to bring the pistol into focus on the intruder.

"So violent for the protector of a pacifist nation?" He now was certain she had been trained to use a gun - her marksmanship in Austria had been remarkable for the strange position they were in, and if this was any indication… But how, and why, would she have been trained in a country where the very weapon she was using would be frowned upon?

The anger she'd held at bay with the exercise started to well up in her again at the insinuating remark. "I'm not Cinq's protector. I'm his."

"A difference in morals, is it?" Treize inquired, pausing a few feet away from her. Noin glared, but let her hands go to the ground, albeit still holding the gun.

"Yes." Vitriol mostly evaporating with the admission, she frowned and turned away. "If you're looking for Milliardo, he's in the southern gardens."

"How would you know?"

She looked back at him, slightly irritated. "Because he always goes there when he's upset." Noin stopped, thinking of something that caused a smirk to appear on her face. "By the river."

Treize nodded briefly, continuing with a less mocking statement. "I see. But it was you I wanted to speak with." Her frown deepened, this time in confusion.

"Why…? Why are you here?"

"Officially, to serve as senior escort for Prince Milliardo - the Austrian conference next Monday; I'm sure they've told you about it." Noin resisted the childish habit of biting her lip. She hadn't been told about it. "But also, to clear some things with you."

"Well then. 'Clear things up.'" Treize, for once, felt a strong surge of annoyance at her brusque manners.

"You know the prince will be instrumental now that the Federation has all but utterly crumbled."

"Yes…" She frowned again. "To be your perfect little saint for the Cause. An angel on earth, the Emissary." Her voice was laced with biting sarcasm.

"Precisely." He related with the acid in her tone, and willingly forgave it in lieu of what he was to say. "Saints cannot have affairs with those of a lower station."

Noin sighed almost imperceptibly, and nodded. "I understand. I'm willing to leave." Treize was silently glad she wasn't being difficult, and began to walk away with the matter cleared. She must truly love him, and this country's people… He halted mid-step, turning back and plucking the pistol from her hand.

"One last thing, Captain…" She watched him with a tired expression, waiting for his statement. He couldn't blame her. "Neither a grandiose exit nor shameful bow into oblivion is necessary."

The gun fell with a soft thump to the grass, now unloaded, as Treize walked away.

+ + +

Milliardo glanced sidelong at his baby sister, taking advantage of her evident distraction to skip a handful of pages in the book he was reading out loud. It was an old game.

"The witch was exiled; the kingdom rejoiced, and the prince and the servant girl lived happily ever after." He could have bitten his tongue off for all the sap in the fairy tale - however, that was what eleven-year-old girls liked, he supposed. Except ... Noin never had.

"You read it wrong," Relena informed him, confused rather than annoyed. She didn't appear to notice the skipped pages. "It was the princ_ess_ and servant _boy_."

Milliardo blinked, verifying her words against the book. He knew the story by heart from so many repeated readings; how could he have misread it? "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Read the one about Anarkali* next," Relena pleaded. He frowned as his eyes fell on the Pakistani folktale's cover. _No, not that one …_

"Why, because Anarkali died, and the prince had to stay to rule the empire?" she asked innocently. "Real life doesn't always have happy endings. That's why I like it." _Maybe it will teach him something. Scaring him is worth it …_

He hesitated as he picked up the book, almost afraid of its gilded pages and leather cover. _Noin is no Anarkali … and it would never come to anything like that. Would it?_

A loud thump interrupted, and he mentally traced the sound to Noin's room down the hall. The diversion was welcome; Milliardo hurried out of the room without so much as an "excuse me."

+ + +

Noin sidestepped a crashing piece of luggage from her closet, grimacing at the offending object. She hadn't taken out the suitcase in a solid two years; it had taken her fifteen minutes just to find it. Thirty seconds found a good deal of her possessions inside it, deftly placed in from long practice in packing quickly.

"Noin?"

The voice nearly made her drop the books she was starting to stuff into the suitcase. She straightened from her bent position over it, turning to look at Milliardo with a neutral expression.

"Yes?"

"The conference isn't for another five days."

"I'm not packing for the conference. I wasn't even invited. And you knew it."

"No, I didn't." His voice was strained, not willing to jump to conclusions.

"Then you're more in the dark than I am." She turned away, focusing on packing closely the neatly folded clothing. Noin was organized enough that she could pack nine years of her life in only an hour.

"Where are you going?" Milliardo asked, his tone nearing demand. He set an insisting hand over her wrist, restricting her movement. She glanced up, a falsified glare being instinctively curbed.

"Italy. Home."

"Yesterday … yesterday, you told me Cinq was your home."

Noin looked upset, keeping her face away from him and pulling her wrist away sharply. "Things have changed."

"In twenty-four hours, what the hell could have happened that would make you up and leave to a country you haven't been to in two years?" Milliardo was speaking in a heated whisper.

Her down-turned glance fell upon the book still in his hands.

"Anarkali." She laughed bitterly, ignoring his question. "How appropriate. Wasn't she buried alive as punishment?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"It's … family issues. I've been ignoring them, but now I can't."

"You should have told us. We can help."

"No. You can't."

"Why can't we? Surely there has to be something we can do…"

"You know what you can do?" Noin straightened, expression now cold rather than neutral. "You can leave me alone. I'm going to hand in my resignation tomorrow."

"Resignation?" he demanded. "Since when-"

"Captain!" a slightly frightened voice yelled. Noin and Milliardo whirled to face Relena, standing nervously in the doorway. "Captain. The Queen wants to speak to you … now."

"Relena, give us a moment," Milliardo said, turning back to Noin.

"She said it was important."

Noin walked away from him without looking back.

+ + +

Katerina felt vaguely guilty about what she was going to do. Of course, the moment the nebulous emotion appeared, she rationalized it. Milliardo was too dependent on her, cared too much for her - and the reverse was not true from Katerina's vantage. Now that these rumors had surfaced, their odd relationship could no longer be considered innocuous.

The captain was standing in front of her, in the same hallway that had witnessed so many things. Noin wasn't in uniform - an oddity in itself. Katerina decided not to question it.

"Lucrezia Noin … I'm afraid I have some bad news." Katerina rose stiffly from her throne, walking down to the floor - wanting to keep Noin and herself at the same level, artificial as it was.

Noin nodded, remaining quiet. "I'm afraid I have to dismiss you. You'll be welcome to take as much time as you need to find a new job; I don't mean to turn you out…" Katerina said in a very unqueenly rush.

"No, my Queen; I can leave immediately. My family wants me to return to Italy." Noin forced a smile. "This is just convenient. If you wish to keep things quiet, I can send my resignation from there. I intended to give it to you tomorrow."

"If that would be good for you." The queen looked apologetic. She really did want only the best for everyone. "You truly don't have a problem?"

"No, I don't have a problem. But if you'd rather, please don't tell Milliardo a dismissal played any part of this."

"Why don't you want him to know?" Katerina would be only too pleased to oblige, but she wondered why Noin would protect the family as well. Perhaps it wasn't the family, only him…

Noin smiled sadly. "I've loved serving here, but now … I have to leave."

_I'm sorry, Milliardo._

+ + +

* Anarkali is indeed a common Pakistani folktale. I happened upon it by accident. ^_~ 


	6. Poor Child

Class (6): Poor Child Noin let her cousin Elisabetta take the basket from her, and watched her examine the contents grimly. Only a handful of tomatoes had been salvaged - most of them were tiny, pathetic green marbles they wouldn't be able to sell. Most of the farm was in a similar state of disrepair - and had been for nearly a year now, according to Elisabetta. At the moment, the main thing sustaining the family were the strangely surviving barley fields, but soon it wouldn't be enough.

The encroaching dusk was a welcome sight; Noin and Elisabetta were exhausted - particularly the former, who rarely had had to do any hard physical work. Even after five days she had failed to become accustomed to it.

"You don't have to worry about me," Noin said quietly, leaning against the stonewall of the guest house she was staying in. "What time should I be up?"

Elisabetta frowned, considering. "Are you going to church?"

Noin flinched internally. She hadn't been to church in four years, since her parents had been alive. Cinq had never quite encouraged a religious lifestyle. "No, I don't think I want to go into town just yet, Eli."

"It's perfectly alright. Sleep in; no one will begrudge it to you," Elisabetta assured her. "Just make sure you don't kill yourself working too hard."

+ + +

Milliardo could have sworn the resentment in the room was tangible. In truth, some of the nearly deposed Federation generals were openly glaring at him and Treize across the large meeting table. Even the other representatives occasionally shot them looks of intense discomfort.

He was beginning to tire of all the arguing going on. Never in Cinq did he have to deal with such prolonged, circular, and stultifying "discussions." He wasn't even able to actively participate - all present, excluding Treize, distrusted and underestimated him; two hours in, Milliardo surrendered and allowed Treize to orchestrate the conference.

A soft creaking attracted his attention to the door as a brown-haired boy poked his head in. The boy motioned for Milliardo to follow him.

"Excuse me," Milliardo said quickly before ducking out of the room. No one heard him.

"My father wants to speak to you," the boy informed him, starting to walk down a hall. Milliardo followed, noticing with mild surprise the color of the boy's eyes. They weren't the light shade of blue as his own, but instead a cobalt more reminiscent of sea depths than the sky. It was frightening, as their uncaring expression eerily mirrored that which Relena often wore.

"Who is your father?" Milliardo queried. "And who are you?"

"Odin Lowe. Both of us." Odin stopped and pointed through an open door to an empty room. "Wait in there."

The fifteen-year-old obeyed, confused and reluctant to follow the directions of a child the age of his baby sister. Awkward moments passed, with Odin swinging his legs as he sat atop a table. Milliardo leaned against a wall and waited.

Within a few minutes a yellow-haired man entered, giving both of the room's occupants an amiable smile. "Hi. Prince Milliardo?" The royalty in question nodded. "Come with me. Odin, you too."

Milliardo groaned inwardly at being ordered around yet again, but did as told. _It's not as if I have a choice._

Little Odin had a paranoid look about him as they walked down the hall, but it seemed strangely normal for him. As Odin the elder started talking, Milliardo temporarily ignored him to study them. The child looked nothing like the father. _He must take after his mother,_ Milliardo rationalized.

"So it is evident there are a few problems with Cinq's business plans," he heard the elder Odin say.

"So this is about corporate contracts?"

"Be patient, Prince," Odin said with a genial smirk. "These interest groups want to be involved in this treaty conference, too, not just the national representatives." Milliardo was baffled, but listened. "Some of these groups want the treaty completed quickly, others want it amended, and others want it to fall through."

The prince was only further perplexed. "You aren't telling me anything new. What's the point of this?"

Odin drew a gun and held it levelly with Milliardo's head. "Some of the latter want you and the other groups out of the picture."

"Father!" the younger Odin yelped, "We have ten seconds!"

"Shit," Odin grabbed the startled Milliardo's arm, dragging the much smaller teenager as well as his young son towards the exit. A ricocheting blast knocked all three off their feet as Plexiglas, shattered wood and flying insulation slammed into them.

Milliardo felt a sharp, searing pain in the back of his neck. And that was all.

+ + +

Giacomo closed the door to his two-year-old son's room and sighed. His wife Elisabetta was standing further down the hall, biting her lip as she examined a letter on a table.

"Eli, do you think she knows?" he asked, looking worried. "It's been all over the news…"

"She refused to take the letter, and has been out in the fields all day. She couldn't have." Elisabetta looked upset. "Cousin Luca's stubborn and strong. But this could destroy her."

"Sì, sì." He sighed again. "We should tell her soon, though."

"Tell me what?" a new voice queried, sounding confused. Noin offered a slight smile, having dropped in to say hi. She set down an empty wicker basket and waited.

Giacomo was silent, leaving Elisabetta to explain.

"Luca, I'm sorry," Elisabetta said sadly. "The Austrian conference was bombed today; everyone was killed…."

Noin remained confused, her mind racing to immediate denial. "What Austrian conference? What day is today?"

Elisabetta hugged her cousin tightly. "It's Monday, bella. Prince Peacecraft was killed in the blast."

"That … can't be…" Noin stammered, shocked. "He shouldn't have been-"

"He was. Almost everyone was killed; those who weren't are in the hospital. The Prince was announced among the deceased, I'm so sorry…"

"I left him before he died," she said, pulling sharply away from Elisabetta. "I should have been there, I was _supposed_ to be there…"

"Luca!" Elisabetta cried, as Noin turned and ran out the door.

"Poor child," Giacomo murmured, honestly sorry. "The poor child."


	7. Over

Over Thanks to the usual host of my friends, reviewers, and crackhead family members (some of them. Like the ones that helped). Only one more part, thankfully.

+ + +

Cadet Dorothy Catalonia rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall, thoroughly annoyed. Beyond the wall, in the office, her father was yelling at some poor aide again. She wondered what incompetent had caused problems this time. She checked her watch quickly, making sure she would have enough time to wait out the session and still be in time for the Aries run-throughs her class was attending.

She stifled a gasp as something crashed inside the office, then mentally chastised herself for the reflex. Dorothy did not like to be frightened or startled.

"Papa?" she called out, knocking on the thick door. "Papa, it's me."

"You're dismissed, Casen," General Catalonia barked. She smothered a smirk under her hand as the low-ranking aide, the unfortunate one to have to deliver bad news most frequently, ducked out of the office and all but ran down the hall. Dorothy straightened her black uniform quickly before entering.

Her father looked up from his desk, where he was straightening some heavy ornaments, when she came in. _She carries herself differently than two years ago, he mused. Perhaps the Academy was a good thing for her._

She saluted in a habitual action, hand wavering in the air once she caught herself in the movement. "It's alright, Dorothy," he said with a smile. "You don't have to salute your own father. Now, what's wrong?"

"I can't simply visit 'my own father,' without having an ulterior motive?" she asked with a slight smirk.

"It's frowned upon, Dorothy," he reminded. Dorothy nodded, somewhat briskly.

"What happened with Treize?" she queried, bluntly. "Something's going on, and they haven't told any cadets yet."

He sighed. "It's to prevent information leaks to the Federation. I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Papa!" she implored. "I don't even have friends; who could I tell? And you're the _general_."

General Catalonia flinched at the reminder. "Dorothy … it's all the more reason to follow the rules."

"Why won't anyone tell me?" she demanded. The eleven-year-old was more than annoyed. She was her father's pet, and having him withhold information was irking.

"Dorothy…" He sighed again. "Very well, but you can't tell _anyone_ - that includes your instructors. Some of them are Federation."

She relaxed, and nodded in agreement. Dorothy was spoiled, but none of it had gone to her head. Her "spoiled child" status had been changing since she had joined the Lake Victoria Academy, at any rate - but anything relating to family she cared about, she considered important.

"The Austrian conference Treize was attending with Prince Peacecraft was bombed. By the Federation."

Dorothy's jaw nearly dropped to the floor; only long-taught control kept it from doing so. Her vocal inflections, however, had no such degree of containment. "The Federation did _what?!_"

"They bombed it, Dorothy. Prince Peacecraft was taken hostage, although we've been telling the media he was killed. The Federation doesn't want him dead yet, but soon enough they will. Treize is in the hospital."

Dorothy let an aggravated growl out of her throat. "How can they do that?"

"They're desperate. Treize will be fine, but the Peacecraft … we can't let this escalate. Do you still promise to keep this quiet? I can pull you out; quite frankly I'm worried your Federation instructors would pounce on the chance to kidnap the general's daughter…"

"I can take care of myself, Papa," Dorothy insisted. The tone and posture looked out of place on the eleven-year-old. "That's why you let me come here, isn't it?"

+ + +

_The stars aren't in the right places,_ Noin thought. The realization was upsetting. _I'm not home._

The sky was gray with impending dawn, and Elisabetta's news rang sharply in her mind. In the first moments of semiconsciousness, habit told her she was in Cinq, safe in her room. She would wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast with the Peacecraft family, and then go to myriad conferences with Milliardo.

The comforting routine was shattered as Noin quickly came to notice she wasn't going to complete it. She was on a couch in the guesthouse, in a rural Italian village. Milliardo was dead, and the remaining Peacecrafts, to her knowledge, wanted her as far away from them as possible.

Noin sat upright, then closed her eyes and held her head in her hands. She felt guilty for not having been at the conference to protect Milliardo. She felt guilty for having listened to Treize, for letting Milliardo be the idealistic prince he was. But most of all, she felt guilty for being alive when _he_ wasn't.

She found she didn't know what to do. Should she call Cinq? Send condolences? I haven't even sent in my resignation yet… Noin was increasingly frustrated and upset as her mind bubbled with yet more questions. Who set the bomb? Who survived? Where was Treize? She wanted to go to sleep and forget it all.

But her obstinate, innate will to live wouldn't let her.

+ + +

Relena stumbled over a pile of books in her room. When she realized the top book was "Anarkali," she burst into tears for the umpteenth time that week.

"The prince doesn't die," she sobbed out to no one, curling up at the foot of her bed. Relena had taken her brother's death with extreme difficulty. The palace servants had fussed over her and Katerina almost constantly, and while Katerina kept grief contained in public, Relena refused to do so.

The spoiled princess's psyche wouldn't let her believe she couldn't get what she wanted - and she wanted her brother back.

Her silent hatred of Noin had all but disappeared. Subconsciously, she desperately wanted the one person with the true ability to deny her what she wanted, with the blunt authority to make her think clearly. That person was the former captain of the guard she had so despised. But Relena was uncertain how bereaved the captain herself would be.

+ + +

Noin wanted very badly to tell the taxi driver to turn around and leave the Cinq marketplace. But her word bound her; she had told Katerina she would be there.

She forced the anxious thoughts out of her mind, and handed the driver his pay before opening the door. The door was closed with a click, and the car was driven away.

"Captain," the flower-vendor called, coming away from her stall. Noin noticed the marketplace was much quieter than it usually was. _Of course … Milliardo has only been dead a few days._ The thought stung.

"Hello." Noin averted her eyes for a moment, uncertain if she should correct the old woman's use of rank or not. "How have you been?"

"The same as everyone else." The flower-vendor wrinkled her nose. "That is, not well. I am very sorry for your loss. Let us just thank the gods you weren't there too."

Noin forced herself to smile, accepting an offered white rose. "Thank you." Her eyes fell upon a heap of flowers, burnt-out candles, and notes stacked against the palace gates. The flower-vendor followed her line of vision to explain.

"We all pay our respects as best we can."

Noin felt a twinge to realize how much the people cared. Cinq's populace had accepted the royal family - and their guard - as their own, and Milliardo's death had affected them nearly as badly as it had her.

"I'll buy some roses," Noin said quietly. The flower-vendor nodded in understanding. She then paused, looking somewhat confused.

"What color, Captain?"

"I-" Noin was thoroughly startled. Yellow was more appropriate, but… "Red, please."

"Of course, Captain." The flower vendor gave them to her without question, having picked them up from her stall. Noin paid, thanked her and walked forward, fully conscious of the watchful looks she was getting, in eerie repetition of the events of only a few weeks prior. Then, she hadn't understood the venom in their glances. Now, she couldn't stand their pity.

A small handful of reporters, staying in the marketplace in hopes of being there as news came in, followed her as she set the roses down on the impromptu memorial. "You died for peace," Noin murmured under her breath, but it was more to convince herself of it than anything.

She ignored the reporters and entered the palace grounds through a side entrance.

+ + +

Milliardo could see nothing but black. It was uncomfortably warm, and something over his face was making it difficult to breathe. Through his disorientation, memories of the Austrian conference drifted back. He dimly remembered the irritating discussions, Odin Lowe and … Odin Lowe. The boy, his father, and Milliardo had been caught in an explosion apparently set by the former two.

"Father, he's awake," Odin Jr. called.

Milliardo heard a phone slammed back into its cradle; he mentally groaned at the situation. Evidently, he had been kidnapped - and would most likely be killed in a few hours, if not in a few minutes. It was far from a pleasant situation.

"Well, good afternoon, Prince," Odin the elder called out. "How did you sleep?" The sight-obstructing item was removed. Milliardo slowly sat upright on the cot he had been placed on.

"I suspect any sleep I endured was induced," he managed to say, reaching up to wipe away something wet on his face. He noted the younger one had returned his attention to a book.

"Good, a sense of humor." Odin laughed, but then noticed his movement. "I wouldn't do that if I were you - you're likely to make your burns worse."

Milliardo distastefully examined the messy cream on his hand. Then it occurred to him - if he was to be killed, then why were they treating his burns?

"I suppose you're hungry," Odin remarked. His friendliness was eerie in the situation - seeming almost lunatic. "You'll have to wait a bit."

"I'd rather not risk the poisoning." Milliardo knew he was most likely being too glib for his own good, but justified it with the information he could get in being so. At least the child seemed harmless…

"Oh, don't worry about that. " Odin smiled amiably. "As of now, the Federation wants you alive."

"Of course." _Of course it's the Federation… but how long will it take for them to kill me?_

"Hey, don't get that look," Odin said, almost as if he were scolding his own son. "We won't hurt you until they tell us to. And as of yet, they haven't - I'll know when they call."

Milliardo fell silent, attempting to figure out the subconscious connections he had already made. "Heero Yuy."

"Hm? What about him?"

"It's the same as this… so is the kidnapping of Anasta Kersey." He flinched at the thought of Kersey. Noin's parents had been killed in the same incident…

"Oh, of course it is." Odin grinned again, maliciously this time. He turned to the child. "Odin, would you mind leaving for a minute? I have to discuss something with our guest." The boy nodded, walking out with the toy still in his hand. "They were all ordered and executed by the same people."

"The Federation and you?"

Odin nodded. "You remember much about them? You would have been just a little kid." He laughed.

"Of course I do. Heero Yuy was kidnapped in 182 during a New York conference, presumed dead. Anasta Kersey was kidnapped in 187 during a Rome conference, released a month later." Milliardo turned away, almost sickened by his conclusion. "Two casualties from the latter were Giuseppe and Mara Noin."

"You know your info, Prince." Odin frowned. "The ambassadors were an accident. The bombs didn't go off as planned."

"Accident."

"Yes, accident." Odin sighed: a long, drawn out sound. "I don't like to kill more than I have to. It used to be for the money. Now it's because I don't have the ability to do anything else."

Milliardo's head was reeling. What would Odin's convoluted morals have to do with this? Would they be able to help him, or would it only make it worse if the Federation decided to take him from Odin?

The phone rang.

+ + +

Noin sat on her bed, hands folded, eyes staring ahead. It was still her old room… gods; she'd only left it two weeks ago. Yet she was back… and nothing was the same. The memories she had of the palace, of this room and the gardens she could see from her window - they seemed so far away, now missing a vital component. She still didn't know what to do.

The blue and red guard's uniform, which had been deposited on her bureau with her departure, was still there. No one had picked it up, for whatever reason. It was still as clean as the last time she'd worn it; it was almost as if she had never left. Even with the empty closet, the too-neat bed, and the discordantly blank walls devoid of photos, a cursory glance would have made it look still occupied.

Maybe it would be.

Pagan politely knocked on the open door; her head whirled in his direction before nodding for him to come in.

"Is there anything you need…" Pagan faltered, "Luca?" Noin smiled wryly to see he had fallen back on her childhood nickname. She'd thought the only person who used the name was her cousin.

"The ability to turn back time?" Noin rose and walked forward, hand resting on the folded uniform before she turned to look at him again. "Maybe the wisest person in the world. I don't know."

"We all miss him, dear," Pagan said with a sympathetic look. "There's nothing most of us would want more than to bring him back."

"I know." She sighed. "But I _don't_ know what I should do. I could stay here… and it wouldn't be the same. If I leave…" Noin shook her head and laughed in a disconcerted manner. "I don't even know what to _wear_."

"The princess said to give you this," he informed her quietly, giving her a bundle wrapped in brown paper. He then left her to her thoughts with a shallow bow.

She unwrapped it deftly, pulling out a black and white uniform. The Cinq royal costume was abandoned in a heap next to the other, and Noin disappeared from the room in search of the clothing's sender.

+ + +

Relena turned from the paintings at the sound of footsteps. Noin had opened the door from the banquet hall into the conference room, and was striding towards her with an irritated look on her face. The princess waited patiently for Noin to reach her and let the other speak first.

"Relena, what was the meaning of that?" Noin demanded.

"Oh, the uniform?" Relena's innocence didn't seem contrived this time around. "What about it?"

"You know I can't wear that." Noin leaned forward, putting her hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "Why did you give it to me?"

"You were wearing it here," Relena almost whimpered, pointing to the painting next to her.

Noin's head snapped up to examine the object. It was dated… two days before the date Milliardo had died, but four years prior. Truly enough, in the painting, Noin was standing next to Milliardo and behind Relena… wearing the royal uniform.

"I don't remember it," Relena continued, "but you were."

"No, it… it was an accident," Noin whispered. "You wouldn't be quiet, so I had to stand behind you. The artist said the colors wouldn't mix well, so they put me in the same uniform…" Her hand covered her mouth, and her eyes were pained. "My parents are in that painting. They died two days later."

Relena squinted up at the Italian couple that Noin resembled so much, standing a bit away from the king and queen with the rest of the non-relatives. They looked happy. She realized Noin's parents and Milliardo had died on the same day… "I'm sorry."

"The same date, isn't it?" Noin shook her head. "Too much of a coincidence. Relena, I don't blame you for making that mistake. But I truly can't wear that."

Without another word, Noin left the rarely used room with haste, and Relena sat down on the floor with a dazed look. "I'm sorry," she repeated to the air.

+ + +

Milliardo couldn't hear the conversation, but it sounded angry. He decided that was not a good sign… and reluctantly resigned himself to the fact he would die. A childish, silly voice that was all but impervious to his situation started asking questions. Did he regret anything? Was he scared? What would happen after he died? Would it hurt? What about Noin? Relena? His mother? Cinq?

"You don't have to worry, you know," the younger Odin remarked, arranging and rearranging a handful of bullets on the table he was sitting at. "It won't hurt if Father kills you."

Milliardo was silent, and the boy continued. "We might not have to kill you anyway. The Federation doesn't have money anymore, so Father might let you go if they don't pay us enough. He does that. But the Federation knows." He looked up at Milliardo, seeming a little confused at his lack of response. "But it won't hurt."

"Yes… thank you," Milliardo forced himself to say, for the boy's benefit. He hadn't known that. Before he had time to think about the likelihood of his being released, Odin the elder stormed out with a loaded gun in his hand.

"Get up, and walk out the door," he snapped. "Don't run or it will be more painful."

+ + +

Noin was now even more bewildered. She still didn't know what she would do, and the queen…

"You know that they weren't able to recover his body," Katerina said abruptly. "I don't think we'll be able to have a proper funeral."

Her head snapped up at Katerina's words; she frowned, and then shrugged. "There will have to be a memorial instead, then." Noin silently loathed her own clipped, matter-of-fact voice. Katerina continued to pace around her bedroom.

"Yes, I suppose so…" The grieving queen focused on the floor before she spoke to the captain standing agitatedly at her door. "You really did love him, didn't you? That was why you left?"

Noin looked away. "I left because of that. Now I think it was bad judgment."

"To love a prince, or to leave?" Katerina knew she was bordering on being cruel, but she wanted to know where she now stood with Noin. That had never been an entirely clear position, particularly not now…

Noin glanced up and met her eyes. "Both."

+ + +

Milliardo winced as he stumbled and fell on his injured hand, sending sharp, hot spikes of pain up and down his arm. To his surprise, Odin the elder helped him up with some modicum of consideration for the fact it hurt.

"We're on the Italian border, about twenty miles southwest from the alps. What's the closest village you know with people who would help?" Odin asked sharply. "Help you, that is."

Milliardo blinked, stunned. "Is Villa di Santa Maria anywhere near here?"

"Three miles away. Why?"

"I have… relatives there." It wasn't a complete lie… the village was, of course, where Noin's family had lived for several generations - she lived there now. They would help, he was certain of that. But why…

"Then that's where we're going." Odin gestured bluntly to a car that had been behind what he now saw was a cottage of sorts. "The Federation thinks they can get away with changing the contract. You're scot-free, then."

+ + +

Relena wandered about the halls listlessly, not knowing what to do and entirely returned to her depressed state. Which was why when another girl her age slammed into her as she ran down the hall, she barely cared.

"What are you doing?" the other girl demanded. "You aren't even moving." She reached out a hand and roughly pulled Relena up to her feet. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Relena frowned and shook her head, struck mute. The other girl had extremely long blonde hair, and the strangest eyebrows… she couldn't remember seeing another girl her age in the palace. Who was she?

"Good," the other girl continued talking. "You're the princess, aren't you?" Relena abruptly noticed she was wearing a black military uniform - it looked so familiar… "My father will want to talk to you. It's about your brother."

"My… brother?" Relena shook her head. "Is he here about the memorial? Mother said-"

"No, not the funeral." The girl gave her an irritated look. "I'm Dorothy Catalonia, and my father is director of Specials. The prince is alive."

Relena fainted.

+ + +

Elisabetta winced as the well squeaked. Normally, she would have gone back to the house and gotten water from the faucet outside, but the pressure had been bad lately, and it was only for the garden…

She heard a car driving up, and turned around, leaving the bucket on the rim of the well. It didn't look like anything the local people drove. A little boy jumped out of the side, and Elisabetta's interest piqued. Children were also a rarity - all of them left the farming village as soon as was possible. Like Luca's father…

Giacomo was coming out of the house to answer the visitor, who was no doubt a tourist lost and asking for directions. The Noin family didn't tend to receive many stranger visitors - not since Giuseppe and Mara had died.

"Eli! Eli!" Giacomo yelled, gesturing for her to come. Confused, Elisabetta started a jog down the dirt path to the house, startled to see a tall, platinum blonde teenager step out of the car as well. The only boy she'd met with hair like that had been Luca's friend four years ago, the prince… She started to run.

With a soft Italian oath, Elisabetta realized her insane recognition of the teenager as the prince was correct. But the prince was dead…

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I made a bit of a mistake," a different man remarked with a genial smile. "Would you mind taking the Peacecraft here?"

"We…" Giacomo stammered. "Of course."

"Much obliged," the man said with a mocking look on his face. "Odin, let's go." With that, the younger boy and the man got into the car and drove off.

"I'm sorry for the trouble," Milliardo said in their dialect, using his hand to shield his eyes from the glaring overhead sun. "Is Noin here?"

+ + +

Katerina stared at General Catalonia in complete disbelief. "Are you telling me… that my son, whom everyone reported dead at the Austrian conference, is… alive?"

"More or less, your Majesty," Catalonia sighed. "We don't know where he is yet, but we cut the Federation's funding. They wouldn't be able to pay the terrorist if they tried, and we have reason to think it's one we're… familiar with. OZ will find him soon."

"How do you know he's alive if you don't even know where he is?" Katerina exclaimed, starting her pacing again. Relena was sitting at the garden table, with a blank look on her face - the shock had been too much. Dorothy, the general's daughter, was sitting a chair or two away from her with a bored look.

"We _think_ he's alive," Catalonia interjected. "At the moment, we have no reason to believe otherwise. My nephew-"

"Your nephew started all this!" Katerina wildly accused. "My son wouldn't have been at that conference if it weren't for Treize Khushrenada…"

"My Queen, it won't do any good-" Noin started to say, her quiet voice making Katerina pause and turn around. Pagan interrupted.

"Luca, I think it's for you," he said in a hurried voice, almost running onto the patio to gesture her to follow back with him. She did, uncertainly picking up the phone on the entrance table.

Katerina watched the captain listen with widening eyes to someone on the other end of the phone line. She responded in rapid Italian, her tone conveying the same disbelief Katerina had shown the general.

"Who is it?" Catalonia asked harshly, walking closer to her and reaching for the phone.

"You will _not_ treat one of my guards that way," Katerina informed him, sounding almost dangerous. "It's her conversation."

"My Queen," Noin stammered, "It's my cousin. She says Milliardo is at my family's house… He's alive."

"Thank God," General Catalonia muttered, waving absently to one of his aides. "Get everything fixed. It's over."

+ + +

In Catalonia's words, "It's [almost] over." I promise, I won't torture you much longer... 


	8. Maestra

This happens to be the fifth version of this epilogue. Quite frankly, I'm not willing to extend this any farther... While I admit there is almost no closure to this, I'm willing to leave it. I apologize to those who felt I should have done better.

+ + +

"I _told_ the idiot not to give him a sedative." Noin sighed irritably. "Now the kid's knocked out cold."

"He gave more to Odin," Milliardo mused. "And that one's wide-awake."

At the mention of the name, Noin glanced out the office door's window to verify that Odin was still in the room across the hall.

"Odin," she remarked, "has the constituency of a wolf."

"Did you call John's parents?"

"No; I didn't want to bother them. They'd drop everything if I did." Noin turned to a stack of papers precariously balanced on the office desk. It was her office, and the messy pile of documents was the only thing glaringly out of place - Noin was immaculate about keeping the office neat.

"Who are the parents again?" Milliardo queried, reaching out to help her. She refused with a shake of her head, so he shrugged and sat down.

"You met them before," she answered, sorting through the papers quickly. "We were at their house for the summer Festival. They were also at the symposium two weeks ago."

"Oh, the ones who helped serve the food?"

"No, that was Kate's parents. John's are the coastal farmers."

He was frequently amazed at her extensive knowledge of the Cinq families. It was quite possible she was on a personal basis with half the country, purely through her students. It was amusing to see her interact with the families; they seemed to see her as an adoptive aunt for the gaggles of agricultural families that comprised much of Cinq's population. And Noin was happy that way.

"Now I remember them. Yes, I agree. We'll have to call them before John leaves, though."

As if he had heard that particular comment, John groggily lifted his head from the simple couch that was temporarily occupying the far side of Noin's office. "I-instructor Noin?"

"Yes, John?" Noin left the papers on the desk, a frown coming over her face. "You okay?"

"Headache." The shy, impish fourteen-year-old rose to a sitting position, and then seemed to be come slightly panicked. "Where's Odin?"

"He's in another office." Noin paused, glanced over at Milliardo. "What the hell were you _fighting_ over, John?"

John stared at the floor, silently.

"You have to help us figure out what happened, John," Noin admonished. "I won't tolerate fighting between my students."

"He said something about Aylee," John mumbled.

The door squeaked as it entered an out-of-breath student, John's age. "Instructor?"

"Gabe, where's Aylee?"

"She went home." Gabe's words were labored; most likely he had run up the stairs to the office from the outer school buildings where the younger students took classes.

"Were you there when the fight started?" Noin's voice was quiet, devoid of annoyance but evidently disappointed in her pupils.

"Yes," Gabe admitted. "I wanted to come and see if John could leave yet."

"He can." Noin leaned over the desk and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I'll expect both of you back here half an hour before class, with Aylee. Odin will be here too." The students left the office quickly, embarrassed.

"What are you going to do about them?"

Milliardo, despite the evident gravity of the situation, felt amusement. A bare five years ago, things would have been so much worse. The transfer of the terrorist's son, as a favor more than anything, had been the worst crisis they'd had for weeks. The world had very much changed since he had renounced his title, seven years prior.

Noin sat down, shrugging slightly. "John's a good kid. I wouldn't want to put anything like this on his record. And if this is about Aylee, then…"

"Aylee? The red-haired one?"

She nodded. "She's around ten. The orphan."

"Then you think Odin's the one at fault."

"For instigating it? Yes. But John shouldn't have been fighting to begin with; I swear… We may not have a total-pacifism policy anymore, but I can't let anything like this happen again." Noin seemed upset. "We might have to look into expelling Odin."

"He does have a violent record." Milliardo shook his head. "But, still…"

In the shifting, late afternoon light, Milliardo's platinum-colored hair became transparent, and Noin could clearly see the burns that marred his face. He was still rather self-conscious about them, though on occasion he would poke fun at them himself. Noin still insisted they didn't look badly.

"I don't want to expel him. But I have to think of the others."

She stared out the now-open door. The door leading to the office where Odin was, drowsy but not asleep even after the sedatives, was firmly closed. Noin had chosen not to lock it, even though she was tempted to do so.

"The administration should have rules about this." Milliardo offered her a way out of the decision, even though he knew she would most likely not take it. "Talk to them. This is supposed to be their call."

"I still have to be the one to tell them what to do," Noin said wryly. "And there is the matter of your sister."

"I know." At that unwelcome mention, Milliardo rolled his eyes. "So my sister's smitten with the student."

"And Treize thought _we_ were socially unacceptable." Noin smirked, the gravity of the decisions evaporating with the turn of subject.

"I'm sure she'll grow out of it," Milliardo insisted, more to convince himself than her. "That's what my mother says, at least…"

"Your mother coddles her." Noin met his displeased glance evenly. "And you do too. Someday you're going to have to knock some sense into her - I'm not saying she shouldn't try to go after Odin, but she should try to _work_. She's eighteen already."

He frowned, not wanting to answer. "Did you decide if you're going to run for senator after your term comes up?"

"I'm not going to run. I'm going to stay here and teach." She let him change the subject, not wanting to pursue the other one anyway. "Besides, it wasn't as if we had competition last term. The public trusts us too much."

"You'd rather they'd be cynical and democratic?"

"Yes. If it makes them any more likely to make their own decisions."

"That's why you like teaching, isn't it?" Milliardo asked, curious. "To teach them how to make their own choices."

Noin smiled. 


End file.
